I can relax a bit next week

I phoned the Foca. Three of the six little friends can join my son at the cinema next week.

Two parents of the unable to attend boys spoke to me. One had told me last week, after school was too difficult for her son, the other got the week wrong and they had relatives coming to stay from far away. It happens, thanks for telling me, you who have been so supportive.

Ugly was the only parent who didn't speak to me. Her son told my son, that's how I knew she'd changed her mind.

"I'm not surprised," I told her as the bell rang. "You've had it in for my son since reception. You've tried to damage all his friendships with the things you said about him."

She turned away, not entirely different to the Foca when it comes to facing the truth.

"I'm nothing like you," I finished. "At least I invited your son."

Apart from walking away from me the Foca is nothing like her. He has never projected his bile onto someone else's child. He loves his own. He's bought the tickets and said he'll organise a cab to take the kids there. He even said he'll see if the cinema will set aside some space so the kids can celebrate a little before the film starts. He has taken the weight off. The children who can come are going to have a really lovely time. That's all I want.